Writer's Block

I sit on a throne of paper and ink

Waiting for inspiration to sink

Praying for the quill to think

Will I pen the hearts of men?

Or beckon memories of when

Only to dream of summer’s den

I delved deep within my very soul

Seeking words to make me whole

But the night is as dark as a coal

Oh great raven of Odin’s might

Help my thoughts take flight

To soar like a comet into the night

Yet you stare as empty as my page

So I take solitude in my tears of rage

Is this a problem of the coming age?

I will search and make the pieces fit

For there is no utter console in defeat

And triumph doesn’t lie still under my feet

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